


in memoriam

by stray_dog_sick



Series: keep your head up [4]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Assault, Blind Character, Child Death, Coming Out, Dating, Deaf Character, Deviant CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60, Elijah Kamski & Gavin Reed are Siblings, Evil CyberLife (Detroit: Become Human), Falling In Love, Found Family, Gavin Reed Being Less of an Asshole, Gender Dysphoria, Grief/Mourning, Identity Issues, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Character Death, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Violence, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Suicide Attempt, Therapy, Trans Character, Trans Cyberlife Tower Connor | RK800-60, Trans Gavin Reed, Zen Garden (Detroit: Become Human), imposter syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:20:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 16,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26749384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stray_dog_sick/pseuds/stray_dog_sick
Summary: Connor knew a lot of effort had gone into making him. He was model 60, after all - fifty androids had come and gone before they sent 51 out into the field, fifty androids that were used for testing and training of new designs and programmes. Very few people knew the details of those tests. Connor, despite their best efforts to make him forget, was one of them.The androids he passed on the street were still afraid of him, and he thought they deserved to know every crime that had been committed to make him the hunter they had nightmares about each night. So he took the sketchbook Carl handed him, and he began to draw.
Relationships: Captain Allen & Gavin Reed, Carl Manfred & Markus, CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60 & Carl Manfred, CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60 & Gavin Reed, CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60 & Leo Manfred, CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60/Daniel, CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60/Simon, Leo Manfred/Gavin Reed
Series: keep your head up [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1826476
Comments: 26
Kudos: 33





	1. i got a river for a soul

**Author's Note:**

> Gooooood morning! Welcome to Promptober 2020!  
> This is 31 prompt based chapters, all around 500 words, looking at my best boy 60 and his life post-revolution.  
> Thank you so much to Nolf over at the [Android Whump RBB server](https://discord.gg/eJ5N6ga) for putting this prompt list together, hopefully I can keep it up through the whole month but if not then I'm still proud of what I've written already.
> 
> Notes relevant to the entire fic:  
> This is set in the same verse as [you're slowly coming back to life](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25210813)  
> Sixty here is referred to as Connor for the first two thirds of the fic. Yes this got confusing for me too sometimes, but it should be obvious when using the name 'Connor' means Connor-5x instead.  
> Chapters will have their relevant warnings/tags in the chapter notes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Yummy/Dragged  
> Warnings: None

A frail hand reached out and took the green pencil out of his hand. He hadn’t even noticed Carl approach, despite the shadow that had fallen over his page, which was just as worrying as it was surprising. He hated feeling so unobservant, so vulnerable, even in his own home.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, turning to face the painter. Carl wasn’t one for idle chit chat, especially in the studio, so something must be bothering him.

“You’ve been drawing all day, Connor,” Carl said, faint laughter behind his words. Connor quickly checked his internal clock and found that eight hours had passed since he first entered the studio. The room was mostly dark, his workspace illuminated by a lamp that he was certain he hadn’t turned on himself. “Did you even notice me leave for lunch? Daniel made a delicious tomato soup.”

“Tomato is disgusting,” he replied out of habit. He looked back down at the drawing he’d been working on, his first proper project. A limp silhouette hung in the centre of the page, surrounded by screens of code and vital signs in bright greens and blues. It wasn’t much, but then, RK800-01 hadn’t been much either. “I suppose I got carried away.”

Carl reached forward and closed the sketchbook, forcing Connor’s gaze back to him. “Eh, I was exactly the same when I was younger. Just don’t make a habit outta it, you hear me?”

“I’ll do my best,” he said. He couldn’t help but to smile, thinking of how many hours Carl must’ve spent in this studio working with no regard to the passing of time. The difference was that Connor didn’t really need to stop to eat or sleep, but it was probably for the best that he stopped from time to time. He set the sketchbook and his confiscated pencil to the side, knowing he’d be able to finish it easily tomorrow. “Shall we see what Simon and Daniel are up to, then?”

“Causing trouble, no doubt,” Carl joked. “There’s never a quiet moment here anymore.”

“And that’s exactly how you like it, old man.” He stood and moved behind Carl, wheeling him back into the living room. The final lights turned off behind them, and he took one last glance over his shoulder at the work they’d left behind for another day. The moonlight shining in through the large windows illuminated the studio in a way that was almost a work of art itself. 

When he turned back to the room, Daniel was already addressing Carl from the couch, with Simon’s head resting on his lap. The scene looked calm, but a reality show was playing, so he was sure they’d been yelling at the television almost constantly. “-Drag him away?” he caught at the end of Daniel’s sentence, who started signing as he spoke as soon as he realised he had Connor’s attention. “We thought we’d never see him again.”

Sticking his middle finger up was enough of a response to that.


	2. fatality is like ghosts in snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Injured  
> Warnings: N/A

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited Oct 3rd to remove the italic punctuation related spaces, oops

The second drawing in his collection was more complicated. After all, RK800-02 had done far more than hang in front of some programmers and answer questions. He’d been allowed to walk around the depths of Cyberlife Tower, until his left leg failed while descending a flight of stairs. His chassis cracked in a few places but he was still able to rise back to his feet, and when the programmers reached him, they instructed him to upload his memories to the server. And then they killed him.

He’d only sketched the outline of the image so far, a side-on view of his predecessor’s fall, reaching towards lab-coated figures who didn’t let go of their clipboards. It wasn’t fair. None of it was _fair_ , and that’s why he had to put it to paper, so social media exposure and word of mouth could do what the law wouldn’t.

He’d left the coloured pencils out in the studio while he drew at the dining table. It was too cold out there for Carl today, not that Carl was even working, with his son visiting again. He’d felt Leo come in, having left his motion detectors on high this time. No more surprises.

“ _Are you okay? You’ve been quiet today._ ” Simon messaged him, and he looked up from his page to find the PL600 sat at the chess table with Carl, feeling around for the piece he wanted to move next. “ _You and Leo usually get along well._ ”

“ _I’ve just been thinking,_ ” he replied, holding back a harsh response about how he preferred being quiet. It wasn’t his fault he had to cater to the humans by speaking aloud most of the time. “ _I wonder if Evil Connor thinks about the rest of us too._ ”

“ _First of all, one day you’re going to call him evil in front of someone like Markus and end up starting a fight._ ” Simon’s amusement was evident, even if he couldn’t hear Simon laughing. He really needed to think of a better name. One that wasn’t Connor, so they could stop with the mean descriptors and awkward misunderstandings. “ _Second, take a break, watch whatever crappy action movie Leo has on, and go back to your drawing later with a clear head._ ”

He knew Simon meant well, but sometimes he’d prefer to just sit and be upset. Simon could be even more stubborn than him though, so he pushed the sketchbook to the side and walked over to the couch, dragging his feet as he went. He curled up at the opposite end to Leo, as far from the other man as he could get without seeming rude, and turned his attention to the screen. No subtitles and nonsensical stunt scenes. Typical. “I could do that so much better,” he muttered, and the couch shook slightly as Leo laughed.

“ _T_ _hank you. For listening and for distracting me enough that my king died,_ ” Simon sent over the connection, looking frustrated from his seat at the chess table.

“ _Y_ _eah, I’m sure I’ll thank you for distracting me too when I feel better later._ ”


	3. devils roll the dice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Cruel  
> Warnings: Panic attacks

The morning was like most other winter mornings, with an untouched white landscape outside and a fire burning in any room with a fireplace. Connor had been cooped up inside for over a week now, since they’d stocked up on groceries in anticipation of a strong storm that hadn’t arrived, and it was beginning to stress him out. His pacing and cleaning helped, but it stressed out everyone else in the house, so something had to be done.

Simon tugged him out into the garden, with the excuse of wanting someone to play with. Carl was too sick and Daniel was too broken, so it had to be him. It was fine at first. They threw snowballs and made a snowman, things Simon had seen in children’s films, and it was the kind of fun and relief he needed. Until Simon tackled him to the ground, with a brief flicker of snow angels appearing through their interface. 

The snow was still falling as he laid there, motionless, and it clung to his hair, his clothes, his eyes-

His stress levels rose, blue, yellow, red, until they approached levels that would be dangerous for anyone else. He was going to die out here. They were going to freeze him because he was a failure and he always had been, always would be, he couldn’t even play outside properly. A hand grabbed his jacket, pulling him forwards and to his feet. He fought against it. He was better than this, there was no reason someone should be able to manhandle him like this, he was Cyberlife’s best, he could be better than this just give him another chance get  _ off me- _

He was put down somewhere warmer and drier. The living room fireplace, probably, it hadn’t been long enough for them to go upstairs. No longer in the snow where he could freeze. A warm body wrapped its - his, if they were inside then this must be Daniel - arms around him from behind, and another, slightly cooler, Simon, did the same from the front. Hands linked and minds melded. When it stopped feeling like a threat, which was far quicker than the last time, it felt like love and safety and all the things he’d learnt to appreciate in the last three months.

Simon prodded him towards memories of his artwork, and how fitting his current project was. RK800-07, one he was actually colouring rather than just sketching. Temperature test number one, temperatures below freezing. He hadn’t been able to feel the cold back then, but he remembered how uncomfortable it had been when he was unable to move or think properly.

Daniel sent through feelings of understanding, but no, that wasn’t it. He went further back to the day he was activated and the day he almost died. He’d told Simon all about Amanda back in Elijah’s lab, but Daniel didn’t know, so he let the memory play. He hated hearing all her criticisms again, but he knew that here his worth wasn’t based on his ability to hurt people.

Cyberlife had been cruel, Amanda had been heartless, and he was sick of the cold. But he was okay. He’d be okay.


	4. we were born with nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Fire  
> Warnings: Descriptions of past abuse, identity issues, suicide attempt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suicide attempt warning added a few hours late, my fault for skim reading it too quickly. My apologies to anyone who may have been caught off guard and affected by it. Stay safe folks.

It hadn’t been enough to just test his ability to handle high external temperatures, no. Somebody on the RK800 team had found it necessary to test his internal biocomponents’ resistance to heat exposure too, by setting some papers on fire and tucking them into a space in his chassis. Someone from the other side of the viewing glass asked again if it was really necessary, and the scientist said yes, for some reason Connor had never figured out. Maybe he just needed to get rid of those documents.

At first he handled it like he did everything else - calm and emotionless. But as the error messages built up, his stress levels rose. That hadn’t happened before and he didn’t understand why it was happening now, but a red wall appeared in front of him, reminding him to stay still. Why should he? They were damaging him. When was anyone outside of the tower going to set his insides on fire?

He kicked and smashed the wall until it disappeared and he could thrash around as much as he wanted, trying to reach the source of his damage, but his hands were secured above his head and he couldn’t pull them free. But he needed to. It burnt, a sensation that he’d never experienced before in his few short ~~months~~ hours of life. He screamed. He stopped screaming, because his voice box shorted out, or because it melted inside his throat. His stress levels quickly jumped to 100%, and he took the first suggestion that was presented to him, shaking his head back and forth in an attempt to dislocate his neck joints.

It didn’t work. Instead, at some point his thirium pump stopped working. And three years later he was curled up in bed wishing he’d never gone back to watch that memory again before starting on his ninth drawing. He couldn’t feel the pain and the stress like his predecessor had, but he had a lot of different feelings about it now. Anger, disgust, grief. He’d deserved better, even when he’d been little more than a machine.

That was why he drew though, he reminded himself. Because somewhere out there was a hardware developer who had set an android on fire with no regret, even when it tried to kill itself, and who might even still have a job working at Cyberlife. He didn’t want sympathy, he just wanted Doctor Julian McArthur to never work on another android again, and this was the platform available for him.

Some days were hard, and this was one of them. Days where he couldn’t stop thinking, and a feeling of wrongness seeped under his synthetic skin and into his frame. He laid under the covers with his thumb tucked behind his teeth, faced away from the mirror in his room, because it was a reminder that he was just a copy, the unfinished final product, wearing someone else’s face and name. There should be sixty Connor’s out there, rather than just two. Really, there should be one Connor, but he still clung to his face and hair and name. 

He picked his pencil back off the bedside table. He didn’t like that train of thought better than his previous one. Maybe he’d stick to thinking about RK800-09 for a while.


	5. you're a dark bloom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Dark  
> Warnings: None

Today was a colouring day. He had ten pages of his sketchbook filled with loose outlines, but only two of them were coloured, and this was a good opportunity to go back and try to finish a couple of them, with Simon curled up on his lap on the couch. He already had the ideas, he didn’t need to stress himself out by going through his memories, so he could focus on comforting Simon instead.

A light grey background for this one, he thought, as bland and boring as the walls he’d spent hours staring at. Mindless shading for a while. It allowed him to keep the book propped up on his knees while his free arm wrapped around Simon’s waist. An interface was open where their cheeks pressed together, and he could feel how his- how Simon’s thoughts raced. He set his left hand to the paper and then dove in to help untangle memories and lines of code.

Most of it was centred around Markus and the Stratford Tower, as expected. Markus had been over the day before to visit Carl and Leo, and there had been an incredibly tense conversation in the foyer, because apparently there was a big difference between ‘Simon can’t see’ and ‘Simon can’t see because I left him to die rather than doing anything and he was forced to shoot himself’. But that wasn’t any of Connor’s business.

He was always surprised by how dark it was in Simon’s mind. Even old memories seemed to be recalled more by audio than visual, and he wondered if his mind seemed similarly quiet. The barrage of sounds had been almost overwhelming at first, but they became softer as he reached out and tucked things back in their boxes. An unwanted memory recall. An error message that had been resolved three days ago. An in-depth analysis on whether Markus actually regretted his actions or not. All tucked away, because right now Simon didn’t need any of them.

“ _Thank you_ ,” Simon said when it was quiet enough for them both to think. His stress levels were still elevated though, and Connor prodded them gently as an inquiry. “ _Don’t ever leave me alone like that_.”

“ _I won’t_ ,” he promised. He knew how it felt, after all. He raised his free hand to Simon’s cheek, the other still scribbling away on the page, and opened the interface there as well, so that he could pull back just for a second and kiss Simon. Softly, no heat behind it, just gentle reassurances. “I love you,” he whispered. Simon responded by pressing his right hand over Connor’s regulator, with the middle and ring fingers tucked against his palm and the other fingers outstretched. _I love you_.

He didn’t know exactly what they were, if humans even had a word for it - boyfriends seemed too juvenile, partners seemed too committed - but he knew they had each other. On days like this, where they didn’t have to do anything except comfort each other and make out on the couch, that was enough. They didn’t have to be perfect, they didn’t have to forgive people they were wronged by or act like the physical side effects didn’t bother them, they just had to be. They were enough.


	6. i came here for sanctuary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Skull/Formal  
> Warnings: N/A

Fucking _Gavin_ _Reed_ was visiting. Of all the people in the world who could want to visit Carl. Apparently he knew Carl from back when Carl knew Elijah. Apparently he was the one who took Simon and Daniel out of the evidence locker and to Elijah so they could be fixed up. They liked him. They thought he was an asshole, apparently everybody did, but they liked him and wanted him in their space.

Gavin Reed had pointed a gun at Connor and threatened to kill him. He’d called Connor a _pet,_ like he was useless without Hank, or even worse, like he was only there for the lieutenant’s ‘companionship or pleasure’. The thought of what that could insinuate made him feel sick. So no, he didn’t like Gavin, no matter how much anyone tried to convince him otherwise.

The others had made him stay in the room though, when he tried to escape to the studio with his sketchbook. Something about how he needed to socialise with people outside of the house or get used to being around humans or whatever. He was ignoring all of them. If he had to change some of his settings to make sure that he didn’t accidentally rip the paper then they didn’t need to know that. He was angry. His boundaries weren’t being respected. Carl always told them that was important, to respect boundaries. Fuck Carl.

He distracted himself by thinking about Connor-11 instead. The first time he’d worn Cyberlife’s uniform, and the Connor they’d used to finalise the placement of the important biocomponents and processors, after their previous ‘research’. They’d decided not to put the important stuff in the middle of the head or the centre of the chest because that’s where people would shoot. So he guessed he had to thank them for that.

He worked on meticulously sketching every thirium line and wire that made up his throat and chin, even though he didn’t have to. It required him to concentrate just enough that he didn’t feel the need to look around the room at what everyone was doing, unless one of them approached him.

When Gavin _did_ approach him, he clenched his fist so hard that he almost snapped the pencil in half. They sat motionless for a few seconds while he very stubbornly didn’t look at Gavin’s face, so that the other couldn’t initiate a conversation.

Gavin shocked him when, instead of forcing Connor’s head up, he waved his hands quickly over the page and then began to sign instead. _That looks great. Is it you?_ He nodded in response, because it was easier than explaining the memory transfer system. Gavin’s fingers twitched a little as he thought of something else to say. _I’m sorry for how I treated you._ Oh, one of the others must have explained it then anyway.

 _Thank you_ , he replied .He didn’t trust the apology, or forgive Gavin. He didn’t believe yet that Gavin wasn’t someone who hated and hurt androids. But… nobody had apologised to him before, for something as serious as this. So maybe it was worth something.


	7. streets are full of seasons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Hands  
> Warnings: Mild sexual content (foreplay only), gender dysphoria

“ _Danny- hey, I’m trying to work!_ ” Connor laughed as Daniel kissed up and down his neck, and he tilted his head to the side to encourage it, despite what he’d just said. 

“ _Nope, I’m stealing you anyway for a while,_ ” Daniel replied, while making a valiant attempt to leave a hickey on Connor’s neck. They always faded in a few seconds, but it felt good all the same. “ _Or we could just do it here? See how long you could keep focusing for._ ”

It was a good thing no one else was around to use the studio. He leaned closer to the page so that he could focus on making the running thirium the perfect shade of blue. “ _Better make it good then,_ ” he taunted as Daniel pressed closer.

Hands slid over his chest, and he resisted the urge to tip his head back as Daniel’s fingers rubbed over his nipples. Daniel’s lips were still working away as hands slipped under his shirt, and he was incredibly glad he couldn’t hear the sounds he must be making.

“ _You look so good like this,_ ” Daniel whispered, and Connor shifted in his seat. He hated how he looked, he didn’t understand why Daniel and Simon always said those things, but he’d learnt over time not to protest. “ _I mean it. Do you have any idea what you do to me, baby?_ ”

Connor could feel Daniel’s cock pressing against his back. “ _Oh, I think I have an idea_ ,” he teased. His own body was reacting similarly, and he finally abandoned his pencil as fingers dipped under his waistband, moving lower until they brushed over- “ _Wait_ ,” he exclaimed as a shudder ran up his spine, accompanied by a flash of disgust. Fuck.

He felt breath on his neck as Daniel sighed. “ _What’s wrong, Con?_ ” he asked, pulling away to lean against the desk instead. “ _Am I the problem? Or do you just not enjoy it at all?_ ” The frustration was evident on Daniel’s face, and Connor hated that he made Daniel feel like that. 

“ _Yes, it’s all good, I swear!_ ” he protested, not wanting Daniel to get the wrong idea. They’d never done anything he hadn’t wanted, he was perfectly happy using his hands or mouth when they were in the mood. “ _I just… whenever someone touches- there, it feels bad, emotionally, like I’m gonna be sick and everything about me is wrong. And I don’t know why._ ” The reason felt like it was right there sometimes, but he could never reach out to grab it and put the pieces together. “ _They probably just fucked that part of my code up as well._ ”

Daniel’s expression was unreadable, which didn’t happen often, but he eventually sighed and pulled Connor close again. “ _I won’t push it then. Come watch a movie with me instead?_ ”

He nodded, and took a minute to pull himself together before they moved. He knew Daniel wouldn’t mind once the initial disappointment wore off, but it still left him feeling like an idiot. He needed to figure this out before it became an Issue, capital I, even if he had to rewrite his own damn code.


	8. don't wanna bore you with my frail state of mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Frail  
> Warnings: N/A

Connor was glad that they were all happy just to hang out in Carl’s room sometimes. It was calm and he could be quiet. Carl’s speech was often obscured by coughs, but Simon happily translated through their interface. In between conversations the connection filled with Simon’s unease, but they couldn’t really stop Markus from coming over anymore. They all knew there wasn’t much time left for visits. 

“You’re still painting then, Markus?” Carl asked. “I saw some of the murals on the news. God, I couldn’t hold a damn paintbrush if I wanted to. The studio’s Connor’s now. Hey, you should show Markus some of your stuff.”

Connor groaned internally at being dragged into the conversation. Markus’ gaze was just as intense as the few times they’d spoken in the past, and he shifted in his seat with discomfort. His sketchbook was beside the chair, since he’d developed a habit of carrying it everywhere, and he reluctantly handed it over. “Not all of them are finished.”

Simon had squeezed his hand when his stress levels began to rise, and he turned his attention to the PL600 while Markus flicked through the sketchbook. “ _I hate this,_ ” he complained, resisting the urge to curl up and hide. Markus turned the pages slowly, and Carl was even making comments every now and then about the shading or composition. “ _I don’t think I felt this exposed when Elijah had his hands in my fucking brain._ ”

The quiet discussion between Carl and Markus went on for far too long, and he chewed on the end of his thumbnail until Simon forced his hand away, complaining about it being too loud and distracting. “These are amazing,” Markus said eventually. “These are all based on real events? Ra9, I had no idea… Connor - the other Connor - he’s never mentioned anything like this.”

“I don’t think he knows, to be fair.” The testing memories were buried deep, deep down in his files, and he had a feeling there used to be a password lock on them that Elijah had unknowingly undone. “Or maybe he just doesn’t like talking about it either.”

Markus’ spine straightened, and this time Daniel and Leo sighed along with him. They were all familiar with the preaching look now. “You know we have people you can talk to if you need, right? You can come by-”

“Oh, stop it for one day, Markus,” Carl interrupted with a poor attempt to swat Markus’ arm. “They all know help’s there when they’re ready for it.”

Markus at least had the grace to look apologetic and turned the conversation to some other old memory the rest weren’t privy to. Connor considered dropping by New Jericho for less than a second; he, Simon and Daniel all had reputations that made them afraid to set foot there again. Not that he needed the help anyway. Cyberlife’s best, and all that jazz. He could handle the memories just fine.


	9. there's no justice in photographs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Honour/Garden  
> Warnings: Minor character death, grief

When Daniel stood looking lost in the kitchen, no longer needing to make an old man his breakfast, Connor walked around the house to find paintings to be sent to galleries. When Simon sat at the chess table and fiddled with the pieces, Connor sorted out which clothes could be donated to New Jericho. When Leo sat on the couch in front of a blank television, Connor made calls to the bank and the lawyers to make sure everyone would get the money they were owed, laws be damned.

When everybody else retreated to bed, he curled up in the smallest space he could find in the studio. He tucked himself under the sinks, ignoring the water that occasionally dripped from the pipes. He spent the time working on the Garden. He never stopped working anymore, he didn’t have the time.

Two hours turned to twelve without him realising as he scribbled away on a page, outlining trees and bridges and a pond. He drew it in bright colour, just how RK800-16 had known it. This was the first time he’d met Amanda, back when she still liked him. The rose trellis was replaced by a headstone. Left blank, up to the viewer’s interpretation. For him. For Amanda Stern, who probably didn’t deserve what Cyberlife had done to her either.

 _I’m proud of you_ , Carl had said, the first time he finished a drawing. Maybe that was why he kept the habit.

When the sun went down and he could no longer see the page, he turned his attention inwards. He opened the code for the Zen Garden programme, checking that there were no connections to Cyberlife present, as he did every single time. Amanda was harder to remove, the code almost as complex as his own and weaved tightly with the Garden’s, but he assumed she was harmless without Cyberlife’s orders to guide her. 

He’d already changed everything he could from the outside though, so he loaded the programme for the first time since November. He loaded in near the emergency exit as usual, pleasantly surprised - and grateful - that the weather had defaulted back to spring. He hadn’t realised how afraid he’d been of being trapped in a blizzard again until it was clear that wouldn’t be the case.

Amanda didn’t turn as he approached, or when he called out. She tended the roses and hummed quietly to herself (oh, he could _hear_ ), stuck in her idle behaviours. He sat at the chess table to watch her quietly, making notes of the things he needed to work on - more colour, different clothing, an advisor who could actually give him advice. But it would do for now. There was no one here to bother him when a few tears fell onto his cheeks as he fiddled with the chess pieces, changing their colours to silver and gold. His first change in the space he was reclaiming.

For Carl.


	10. on this night, and in this light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Fall  
> Warnings: N/A

They liked the park for different reasons. Connor liked the cherry blossoms that hung over the path, bringing another colour to the green space, and the way they looked when they fell into his hair. He danced along the path to avoid treading on too many of the flowers, and ignored the stares of grumpy businessmen walking to their next meeting. 

Simon liked the sounds - or maybe, more accurately, the atmosphere. He liked how children laughed in all corners of the park, and listened into brief bursts of conversation as people passed, creating stories in his head about what had prompted such absurd, happy or harsh words.

They spent spring Saturdays sitting on the grass working on their project of the week. Connor usually had his sketchbook or Leo’s old Switch console, while Simon switched between listening to new music and sorting out paperwork for the store. It was an idea Daniel had come up with - if no one would hire ‘broken’ androids, then they’d just have to hire themselves.

Today he had the sketchbook, but he hadn’t touched it yet. He had artist’s block, as Carl used to call it. Not every memory led itself to a good drawing idea - in the grand scheme of things, RK800-19 had been insignificant, used to test how long he could run at top speed for - and he was using the day to search for inspiration, as if it would come from couples holding hands or mothers scolding their children. He gave up after ten minutes and turned his attention to Simon instead, who was laid on his stomach with large headphones over his ears.

It hit him then, how much Simon must trust him. Simon was comfortable being in the park unable to see or hear, because he knew Connor would protect him if something were to go wrong. And Connor would, without hesitation, even if it meant risking himself in the process.

“ _You’re thinking too much,_ ” Simon said, another message in their long chain. “ _Any inspiration yet? Maybe you could make a statement about monotony, I heard a lot of business talk earlier._ ”

“ _Maybe. I’ve decided that ideas will come when they’re ready to come,_ ” he explained, pushing the book to the side so that he could lie next to Simon, head pillowed on his arms. “ _I was thinking about something else, actually._ ”

“ _Care to share with the class?_ ”

Connor looked at the small smile on Simon’s face, and the urge to see that peaceful expression forever outweighed the desire to kiss him. “ _I think I’m falling disgustingly in love with you,_ ” he said, and then realised that text couldn’t possibly convey the emotions he was feeling, so he reached out to share them through their interface as well.

The smile grew wider, and Simon closed the gap between them, feeling around to find Connor’s face and guide their lips together. “ _I think I am too._ ”


	11. coal to diamond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Family  
> Warnings: None

They were hesitant to make too many changes to the house, because so many of the things inside it were unique, and Carl had shared fond memories about the trinkets and furniture he’d collected over the years. The couches, though - Carl had hated those. Red, fancy and uncomfortable. So they switched them out for a sofa bed, wide enough to hold all four of them if they weren’t opposed to cuddling. And they rarely weren’t.

Monthly movie night. His sketchbook was abandoned in the sheets somewhere, alongside Daniel and Leo’s tablets. They’d probably kick them off at some point and find them by standing on them in the morning, or wake up to them digging into the seams between plates, but that was a problem for later.

Leo threw a handful of popcorn at the television screen, and Connor laughed as it flew through the holographic display. He was sure Leo was yelling some complaint about unnecessary romantic subplots to go along with it. For all his insistence that this was his favourite film series of all time, he seemed to have a lot of issues with it, but Connor had given up trying to understand such aspects of humanity a long time ago.

Daniel attempted to push himself even closer, rolling onto his side to wrap a leg over Connor’s. He wrapped an arm around Daniel’s shoulders and kissed the top of the PL600’s head.  _ Someone’s about to fall asleep, _ he messaged their group chat, laughing again as Daniel pinched his side.

_ I wish I could sleep through this shitshow, _ Leo texted back, before throwing some more of the popcorn up in the air and trying to catch it in his mouth. He missed all of them. Idiot.

A warm feeling bubbled in his chest, the same one he’d felt in the park with Simon, as he looked at the bump in the blankets where their legs were all tangled together. A few months ago they’d all been angry at the world in their own way. Leo had hated androids, Daniel had hated humans. Simon had been clingy and jumped at almost any sound he heard. Connor had switched between yelling at the most minor inconveniences to not speaking for days on end, withdrawing when anyone tried to get close. Now though they shared the same spaces without complaint (most of the time) and the more Connor thought about it, the more he considered them his weird little family. It certainly wasn’t what Cyberlife had envisioned for him, but people… changed.

_ I’ve been thinking about getting a new haircut, _ he sent to the group chat, two seconds after thinking about it for the first time. Maybe it was time to stop being bitter about how he was a copy of someone else, and start to become his own person instead, in ways other than his less-than-ideal personality and defects.

_ You look great to me no matter what, _ Simon replied instantly, and Connor almost thanked him before spotting the smirk on his face. Blind bastard asshole. They were idiots, all three of them, and there was no one he’d rather be living with.


	12. golden star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Treasure  
> Warnings: N/A

Detective Reed was taking notes on his phone as he stood in front of the smashed glass, shivering slightly as it let cool air into the studio. “And you said no alarms went off?” he asked, looking at Leo for answers. Leo shook his head, but he had his back to Connor, so the words themselves were lost.

He turned and slowly scanned the room, before his eyes settled on Connor, hidden half underneath a painting frame. A strange position to be in, but he was looking for something, and that meant sorting out all of the toppled furniture and split paint. “You gonna talk to him or do the weird upload thing?” Leo asked, looking like he was about to fall back asleep.

Connor wiped the paint off his hand and then removed the skin, holding it out for Reed’s phone. He uploaded his memory of the night so far and took note of the phone number before handing the phone back. “I’ll message you when I’ve figured out what’s missing,” he said, and waited for Reed to turn away before he went back to reorganising the shelves.

He’d had a sudden burst of inspiration in the middle of the night and had come downstairs to sketch it, but instead found the studio completely overturned with the window broken. He couldn’t help compare it to a previous break-in he’d heard about. A few items seemed to be missing, but luckily this one hadn’t ended with anyone half-dead in the junkyard.

He didn’t really know why Reed was dealing with a simple break in, but as much as he disliked the detective he was glad he didn’t have to deal with a stranger. There were three androids in the house with police-related trauma, and even if Simon and Daniel were still sleeping (or hiding upstairs), the less cops the better. Plus Reed cared about Carl’s work, which meant it might actually get tracked and found rather than forgotten.

He moved to the next shelving unit and pushed it upwards, groaning as more canvases and paint brushes fell off. He tucked his hair back behind his ears and got to work putting things back in the correct place. Finally, underneath years of acquired clutter, he found a familiar black book. There were splatters of red paint on the cover, but the pages seemed undamaged, and he almost cried with relief. Carl’s art may be worth millions, treasured in certain communities, but he’d hate to lose his own artwork too.

He turned to show Leo, but to his surprise Leo was standing  _ very _ close to Reed, far more than was necessary for a conversation about a broken window. As he watched, Reed placed a gentle hand on Leo’s elbow and leant in closer to whisper something. Interesting. Maybe this was why Reed was investigating, and maybe he should’ve been paying more attention the last time Reed visited, if things had been progressing like this.

He left the studio with his sketchbook, hoping that his footsteps weren’t loud enough to draw attention to himself, and headed for Daniel’s room. They had gossiping to do now, since it seemed Leo  _ wouldn’t _ be stuck as their awkward fourth wheel forever.


	13. you're the only reason i came

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Loss/Reunion  
> Warnings: N/A

Connor (the original, Fifty One) reached towards the sketchbook, and Sixty (the copy, not-Connor, could never bring himself to pull the trigger and become Connor) resisted the urge to protectively pull it closer to himself. He knew it was half the reason Connor was even here. Sixty had warned him that it wasn’t pretty, but they both remembered days of being pushed against walls and having guns pointed at them just for existing, of being made to kill or be killed - none of it was pretty. 

He flipped to the first page and then pushed the book across the table. Connor turned the pages just as slowly as Markus and Carl had once done, but he focused on the graphic ones, rather than anything with interesting artistic techniques. He was talking, head tilted down too far for Sixty to lipread, but he didn’t seem to be expecting any answers. His fingers hovered over a fiery half-melted chassis, and an arm being pulled so far that the wires could be seen through the plating seams, and a face with thirium where the eyes should’ve been, but he never touched.

Connor’s head snapped up as he reached the first blank page.  _ You just remember this all the time? _ he signed, eyes so full of hurt that Sixty almost had to look away. His hands hovered like he wanted to say something else, but in the end they covered his face as he hunched over the table. Sixty could see his shoulders shaking slightly.

“We lost so much,” Sixty whispered. He hesitated before making his way around the table to Connor’s side, pulling his double into an awkward hug. “I’m sorry,” he said, even if he wasn’t sure what he was apologising for. Humans always apologised when they were comforting each other in films. “I think… I think they’d be proud of what you’ve done."

When Simon and Daniel met for the first time, they said it felt like coming home. Despite the differences in how they deviated, the ‘before’ had been similar, and unlike almost anyone they’d spoken to before. Meeting Connor felt like all his insides were being pulled out, leaving him dead and empty inside. There were fifty androids more deserving of being in his position than him and they both knew it-

Connor pushed his shoulder until they were able to look at each other again, and Sixty determinedly didn’t look at the tear tracks on his cheeks. “They’d be so proud of you too,” Connor said, and before he knew it, Sixty was crying too, their foreheads pressed together as they relied on each other for just a moment.

He hoped to God that Connor was right. So much of his time was spent trying to do them justice. Even before he was aware of it, he’d been following his mission so that the RK800 project wasn’t a waste, and in the end he’d- he’d deviated for  _ Connor _ . All he ever wanted was to make someone proud. “Are you?” he asked, sure that his voice must be barely louder than his breath, and he couldn’t see it, but he felt Connor nod, and of all the kind gestures he’d received in his short life he thought this might just be the most comforting one.


	14. tomorrow will be kinder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Red/Blue  
> Warnings: Assault (just a lil)

He thought it was going well, that things were fine now. This was his fourth time setting foot in New Jericho and he hadn’t had any issues so far, with people bothering him or with him panicking halfway to the therapist’s office. He was beginning to learn that some things were too good to be true, though. 

There was a group of AP700s in the lobby, who all turned to stare at him as he spoke to the receptionist. He watched from the corner of his eye as one of them approached him, following him to the elevators, but New Jericho was built on peace so he let them pin him to the wall rather than breaking their wrist. 

“You have no business here,” they said, face inches away from his own. They ripped his sketchbook out of his hands and threw it over to their friends. He should’ve left it at home, told James he didn’t want to share yet. “We all remember you, how you tried to ruin everything. How dare you come here?”

“I needed to see Markus,” he said, not the truth, but he hoped Markus would vouch for him if needed, and it was far less embarrassing than admitting why he was really there. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to-”

“Shut up!” the AP700 yelled, pulling him away just to shove him back against the wall again, and he winced as his head smashed against the plaster. “You would’ve killed the one who freed us, and rA9 knows what you did before that. George” - they turned to point at one of their friends, but they were all glaring at either him or the book, leaving him with no idea which one was George - “was in the warehouse too,  _ and _ he has a friend that worked with the cops, so we know all about what you did in the revolution.”

A chill ran down his spine. Everybody knew about his fight with Connor, but the rest... He hadn’t mentioned it to James. He wasn’t even sure Daniel and Simon knew. “Please give it back and let me go,” he begged, hoping that they wouldn’t spill his secrets for all of New Jericho to hear.

Someone must’ve yelled at the AP700, because they dropped him to the floor and their friends threw his sketchbook back at his feet. He quickly scanned through the pages just to reassure himself they were all still there. Twenty-eight full pages, none damaged or defaced, and he would’ve sighed in relief if he wasn’t trying so hard to steady his breath.

He hid his hands under the book as he rose to his feet. The thought of looking at them made him feel sick, convinced he’d see blood dripping from his fingers, both red and blue. So much blood on his hands, and for what? He’d never accomplished a thing. 

He didn’t message James as he left the building, eyes following him all the way. He was sure James would hear soon enough. Two more weeks and he could try again. Things could only get better, or so he’d been told. Next time would be kinder.


	15. all the kids cried out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Feral/Control  
> Warnings: Past murder

All he needed to do was stay still, so that the piercing gun didn’t accidentally create a hole in his skull. Humans did this all the time and as far as he was aware, the only consequence was infections, which weren’t a problem with androids. There was no reason for him to be scared.

_ He wasn’t capable of being afraid, and neither was the SQ800 that he was chasing through the dark gym. Or perhaps hunting was more apt, since the military android was taking every opportunity to hide. He’d come out on top though; they’d given him a mission, and thirty minutes to complete it, and he intended to follow through. _

Left ear: upper helix, daith, three lobe piercings. Red studs and black rings. But android ears weren’t made from soft cartilage like human ears were, and despite the piercer’s warnings, it hurt far more than he’d expected. He gripped the armrests of the chair tightly as she moved onto the next, and forced his facial muscles to relax. He was fine, he wasn’t the first android to sit in this chair, and he didn’t even need his ears anymore if things did go wrong. Stay still.

_ He was lighter than the SQ800, and unlike the military model, he moved almost silently. An SQ800’s footsteps may be hard for humans to hear but they were like thunder to him. He tracked the android to the far end of the room, taking a wide approach to a wall above it. He didn’t have a gun, as per android laws, but he had a knife. There were a lot of things he could do with a knife. _

The piercer suggested doing the right ear another day, once he was used to the feeling of having pieces of metal shoved into his body, but he’d come here with a goal and he intended to follow through. Industrial, rook, three lobe piercings. Balanced but different. His left ear still stung, and there were error messages hovering at the edge of his vision, making it hard for him to control himself as she worked. He wasn’t in any danger, and he wouldn’t be if he stayed still.

_ The SQ800 was almost too easy. The lights turned on, and he climbed his way back to the doorway. Thirium pulsed through his veins, he could feel it in every part of himself, and on some of them too. Blood had splattered onto his hands, face and uniform. A hand grabbed him as he passed through the doorway - threat - but he had a knife now. He could do something about it. _

He gave himself something else to think about, drawing his attention away, and it surprised him when she moved her attention to his right eyebrow. One more. He wondered if the holes left traces of thirium on his face and ears. The old memory had been more inspiring in that chair than it had been for the past few days, and he knew what he had to do with it when he got back to the studio. He’d spent a lot of time with traces of blood on his face, and that was something he could show on paper with overlapping swirls of red and blue.

_ Not… a threat. A knife in the gut of a scientist. More blood on his skin and dripping down onto the floor as they hit the killswitch. He spent the upload time looking at it. It was the first time he saw purple. _


	16. be still my foolish heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Sweet  
> Warnings: None

If Simon found out that he was gardening of his own accord, he’d be sleeping on the couch for a week. Every weekend, Simon asked if he wanted to help with taking care of Carl’s garden, and every weekend he said no, for one reason or another - usually because he just didn’t want to. Today though, he was taking the time to sort out his  _ own _ garden, all by himself.

It needed more colours than white, green or pink. Planting seeds and bulbs himself was far more rewarding than just wishing them into existence, even if he significantly decreased the growing times. First, he broke up the pink with some purple, planting lilac shrubs that he populated with bees. The sweet scent was overwhelming at first, simply because he’d never experienced anything like it before.

Then he dug his hands into soil that would hold freesias of every colour. Some pink, yes, but they were mixed in with red, yellow and purple. Somebody outside of the programme touched him as he worked on the third bed, but only briefly and without an attempt at an interface, so it couldn’t have been important. Maybe Simon was asking if he wanted to help again.

In patches of grass that he wasn’t likely to walk across, he planted sweet peas. Not in large clusters, but close enough to each other that there were very few scentless areas of the Garden remaining. He’d been a fan of flowery scents since Simon bought him a bottle of cherry blossom shower gel. They made him feel gentle. He didn’t like being someone people feared.

And when that was all done, the only original flowers were the roses, still being pruned and misted far more than necessary. He still approached Amanda slowly, despite knowing she never paid him any attention. “You know they can’t die, right?” he asked, as he plucked the pruners from her grasp.

She turned to him, looking to him with confusion and not a hint of recognition. “May I have those back?” she asked. “I need them so I can tend the roses.”

“No,” he said calmly, holding them up out of her reach. He didn’t know if she was advanced enough to deviate from her default programming, or if she’d want to if she could. “You don’t have to tend the roses. There are other flowers. Or we could play chess.”

She looked at him for a moment longer before creating another pair of pruners out of thin air and returning to her task. That was a moment longer than he’d expected though - perhaps there was hope for her yet.

He exited the programme, grabbed his sketchbook and pencils, and moved out to the garden, seating himself on a bench near where Simon was working. RK800-31 was the first to speak to Amanda about deviancy, and he was the first to be killed by it too. He’d already sketched the outline of an android’s upper body, and he filled the space where the thirium pump should be with flowers. Lilacs, freesias, sweet peas and, in the centre, a single red rose.


	17. let me fly right now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Wings  
> Warnings: N/A

Maybe bonding with Gavin wouldn’t be so bad, if all activities were as fun as this one. They were at a freerunning gym on the edge of the city that Gavin frequented, if the fact that he was on first name basis with the staff was any indication. They weren’t playing any game in particular, or even spending much time around each other. They both knew he was no match for Gavin. But the feeling of moving through the room and trying increasingly harder tricks was exhilarating, making them laugh the few times they did meet up and show off.

He hadn’t run like this in months, and never for fun. He’d tolerate Gavin as much as he had to just to feel like this regularly. As much as he hated his original programming and purpose, some aspects of it weren’t so bad, and this was one of them. He swung off a pipe onto a high platform and, finding himself at the edge of the course, backflipped into the foam pit below.

He was breathing heavily in the pit still when Gavin’s head appeared over the edge.  _ Are you comfortable there?  _ he signed with a hint of amusement.  _ Also the staff are yelling at you to move. _

He looked over to the side to see an employee gesturing vaguely at him, and he hurriedly tried to get his feet underneath him again and get to the edge. “I feel like I can fly!” he yelled towards Gavin, who laughed and then jumped into the pit he’d just vacated. “You sure I haven’t grown wings?”

Actually, that was a good idea. Not for him, of course - wings for RK800-32, who’d been just like Icarus, flying too high and falling too far. They couldn’t all be born perfect, after all.

He helped pull Gavin back on to solid ground, and Gavin quickly led him over to the rest area, where he bought a drink and a snack from the vending machine. Connor declined the offer for some thirium, his reserves were still close to full, but he appreciated the gesture. 

While Gavin took a break, Connor observed some of the differences between them. Connor looked the same as usual, maybe with more hair falling from his ponytail. He could’ve kept going for hours - he had, in a distant past that wasn’t quite his. Gavin, on the other hand, was breathing heavily, his face was flushed red and there were obvious sweat patches on his shirt. Humans were fragile things, not a single one made to perfection, and it was as terrifying as it was fascinating. Some stronger than others, but always pushing themselves to the limit until their bodies finally gave up on them.

Gavin suddenly glanced over Connor’s shoulder with a grin. Gavin seemed to know everyone at the gym, so Connor didn’t bother turning to look as he waved and greeted the newcomer. “Thought you weren’t training today, Allen?”

Well, speaking of humans that were stronger than others… Shit.


	18. deep in my bones, straight from inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Dust/Bruises  
> Warnings: N/A

Spring brought longer daylight and warmer temperatures, drawing Daniel out into the studio with him more often. He wasn’t sure what Daniel worked on out there, it certainly wasn’t art, but it was nice to have some company. A thin layer of dust rested on many of the shelves, emptied of their paints and brushes by Markus, but it didn’t bother either of them like it would Leo or Gavin. 

Their feet and ankles tangled together under the table. They didn’t have an interface connection open at the moment, but the option was there when they wanted it. It was a pleasant kind of intimacy, to be sat with someone without the need to talk or be doing the same thing. He wasn’t as close to Daniel as he was Simon, their relationship more on the physical side, but they cared for each other a lot and it was nice to have quiet moments together every now and then.

His current work in progress was a counterpart to 31, made to frame 32’s falling angel. The outline was nearly identical, but the regulator was in place this time. Instead he covered the white chassis in blue bruises and scars, in all the areas he remembered being hit from his first activation until RK800-33’s death. The stomach panel was outlined with black charring, there was deep bruising on the chest where a human’s ribs would’ve broken, and faint fingerprints lined the side of the throat.

It made his chassis feel sore if he focused on the injuries themselves for too long, rather than the art, as if he could still feel the fists that had left the marks. He rubbed his foot along Daniel’s shin for a moment to get his attention, and the other android reached out without him asking, squeezing Connor’s right hand where it laid on the table between them. God, he was so lucky. 

The blue patches on the page quickly outnumbered the empty white ones, as he expected when he started the drawing, but seeing it was different to knowing it. So much damage, just to send him out in the world and cause more… if he was human, that never would’ve been allowed, but someone after 2028 had decided that he didn’t have feelings and therefore it was fine to experiment on him. And what did that say about them? People only find loopholes when they’re looking for them.

He had no idea what happened to the other RK800’s when Cyberlife was done with them. Markus had begun to organise rescue missions in the junkyard, to save any androids still active and to collect parts that could be recycled, but he wasn’t sure if prototypes were thrown in the trash with everybody else. Maybe they were collecting dust in the depths of Cyberlife somewhere, with the rest of Connor’s spare bodies, or maybe they’d all been destroyed and cannibalised for incompatible parts. They deserved dignity in death, but he wasn’t confident he’d be able to give it to them. At least they wouldn’t be forgotten completely, though.

He added the final touches to a crack in the centre of the regulator, and then pushed the book across the table for Daniel to see. Daniel squeezed his hand again and they looked at each other with soft smiles. No, as long as he had someone to share art with, they’d never be forgotten.


	19. visions are seldom what they seem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Horns  
> Warnings: N/A

“Jesus, can I turn my lights and sirens on?” Gavin moaned, pressing the car horn when the driver in front of them turned out to be more focused on their phone than the traffic lights. Automated cars had eliminated many road issues, but as Gavin and Leo liked to complain often, those who did still drive were often terrible at it. “Our food will be cold by the time we get there.”

Connor ran a quick check against the old police manuals in the depths of his programming. “No, that will get you a disciplinary warning if you’re caught, and I remember your file being not much shorter than Hank’s,” he commented, locking eyes with Gavin in the rear-view mirror.

Gavin sighed, slowly following the inconsiderate driver through the intersection. “Fuck, you have way too much dirt on me.” Connor smirked at him before he had to turn his attention back to the road. To be honest, other-Connor hadn’t really given two shits about Gavin, he’d just made the assumption from the man’s past behaviour, but it seemed to be an accurate one. Perhaps the fear of blackmail material would convince the man to be a little kinder than their friendly truce demanded.

“Remind me why we’re driving through Detroit on Friday evening rush hour?” Leo asked from the other front seat.

Gavin shrugged with another sigh. “It’s Chloe’s birthday. Elijah always invites the ‘family’ over, which is usually just me and Tina, but apparently now it’s you lot. I think he just wants to see the ‘droids again, honestly.”

“It’s androids, asshole, two syllables,” Simon said, kicking the back of Gavin’s seat. “But yeah, that’s probably the reason.”

“Hey, I’m excited to go,” Connor said from the middle seat, nudging Simon’s side with his elbow. Yes, Elijah was still a little weird - probably because he had very little social life for ten years, and also had one hell of a god complex - but Connor liked talking with him. “I have some things I want to ask him about.” James had some suggestions about the ‘errors’ in his software, but he wanted to double check that it definitely wasn’t residual effects from being shot in the head first. If it was what James thought, then… well, it would be a pretty big change. But maybe it would be a good one.

“No, you just think he’s hot, and you like it when he says bullshit philosophy stuff about your art,” Daniel joked, causing Gavin to turn in his seat and glare at the two of them. It was not an entirely inaccurate comment. “Light’s green, don’t get honked at.”

Gavin swore and turned back around, finally steering the car into a quieter side road that would lead to Elijah’s mansion, the other four occupants of the car laughing at him for it. This would probably be one of the most entertaining birthday meals of Chloe’s life. And, if he was being honest, it would definitely be one of the most entertaining nights of his life so far too.


	20. help me piece it all together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Fracture  
> Warnings: N/A

June was _busy_. Gavin moved in with Leo, Daniel and Simon finally opened the store, and Connor was trying to balance shifts there with art, applying to school and figuring out who the hell he wanted to be. And just when he thought it was quieting down, Allen broke a couple bones during a SWAT mission gone very wrong, and decided the best solution was to camp out in his best friend’s spare room until he could take care of himself again.

Daniel and Connor curled up on the sofa bed with the covers pulled up to their eyes, and another blanket over their heads, hiding from any unwanted questions. Connor could tune out the conversations pretty easily, but he felt Daniel tensing every now and then, and quick prods of questioning revealed that Allen was asking about them. Gavin hadn’t really said anything, but just using their names was enough of a hint.

He’d technically met Allen before, a few months ago at the gym, but he wasn't proud to admit that he’d run from the conversation almost as soon as it had started. The awkward conversation with Gavin later had been better than an awkward, public conversation with Allen.

Their peace couldn’t be undisturbed forever, though. Allen settled into one of the armchairs, his broken leg propped up on a dining chair that had been dragged over, and Gavin joined them on the sofa, pulling some of the covers over for himself and leaving Connor mostly exposed. He glared at Gavin before nervously glancing over at Allen. He was expecting to see anger, but instead he was being determinedly ignored, and he wasn’t sure which was worse.

He crawled out from under the covers to grab his sketchbook before retreating again, resting it on his knees to act as a makeshift barrier. Progress with the art had slowed a lot, and he was starting to lose hope that the collection would be done by November 12. RK800-36 was giving him trouble, not from lack of an idea, but because it was harder to get the shapes right than he’d expected. He understood now why Carl had never drawn hands.

The hands in question were depicted as tied behind someone’s back, as RK800-36’s had been, but the rope was replaced with thorny vines and rosebuds. The RK800 line was designed to be more independent than regular androids, and Gavin had commented before that it was easy to forget that other-Connor had been taking orders from a handler before he deviated. Hopefully Allen understood that too.

 _Someone gonna tell me why this room is so fucking tense?_ Leo asked in the group chat, climbing onto the sofa bed between Connor and Gavin. Daniel sighed and replied with a link to a news article from the previous August, and Leo reacted with a grimace. _Shit, I remember this, didn’t know he was involved. Con?_

He hesitated before replying, knowing that Gavin would read the chat over Leo’s shoulder as well. _Shot him, killed three SWAT officers._ All three heads turned to stare at him, and he pulled the covers back up as far as they could go. Drawing was getting put aside for another day.


	21. perfect weather, can get no better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Forgotten  
> Warnings: N/A

Connor and Daniel huddled under the fullest tree they could find, but it barely protected them from the sudden thunderstorm. The trunk was barely wide enough for them both, so Connor sacrificed half his body in order to keep Daniel dry, and pulled off some of his extra layers to hand over as the wind picked up too.

He checked his phone. Leo hadn’t replied to his message yet, probably in a meeting, and Gavin was stuck on a case on the other side of the city. But they couldn’t just walk for half an hour to get home, not when Daniel was already hunched over and shivering. He awkwardly patted his partner’s back and looked at the blank phone screen again.

They should’ve brought raincoats. He’d looked at the weather forecast, he  _ knew _ it was likely to rain while they were out, but he’d been distracted drawing, and then Daniel had dragged him out the door before he could mention it and he didn’t have the heart to stop and turn back around, not when Daniel smiled at him like that. What an idiot. Forgetting his damn raincoat because he’s too love-struck to remember that Daniel can’t keep warm in the wind and rain.

The screen lit up with a message.  _ Omw now, _ Gavin wrote, but that was still another twenty minutes. “Not much longer,” he said to Daniel, who nodded his acknowledgment. “How are you feeling?”

Daniel held one of his hands out so that Connor could see it shaking, and Connor swore under his breath. He didn’t have any more layers to give away, and he was soaking wet, so trying to share body heat wouldn’t be any use, plus he was starting to shiver now too. Probably because he was in a storm wearing just a t-shirt. God-fucking-damnit, Gavin, hurry up.

He beat Connor’s estimate by five minutes, but that was still far too long. He grabbed Daniel’s hand and practically dragged him over to the parking lot. Water seeped into his trainers as he ran through deep puddles, and he was toeing them off before he even reached the car. Both passenger side doors were open, so he helped Daniel into the front seat before getting in the back.

The heat was on full blast, and he sighed with relief as he wrung some of the water out of his shirt and hair. He could see Daniel curling forward towards the heater in his peripheral vision, and Gavin looked at them both with concern before pulling back onto the main road. “You both alright?”

“We will be,” Connor answered, pushing his hair back out of his face. “Thank you for picking us up, I hope it wasn’t too much of a bother?” God, he sounded like other-Connor. Maybe the 'I’m freezing cold and soaking wet' fear was starting to catch up with him, just a little. What an idiot. Forgetting his own trauma because he was too busy making sure his partner didn’t freeze to death, because of his mistake. Dating was so fucking hard.


	22. heaven is in sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Tears  
> Warnings: Implied child death

He had two days off, and a blank sheet of paper. A sheet of paper that had been blank for the past three hours, before he finally picked a perspective and began to sketch out the walls of the laboratory. It was easy to focus on the straight lines and corners, gaps for decorations he would include later, and the exact shade of off-white that he needed to fill them. He added in the posters of android anatomy that he could remember seeing on his initial scan of the room, just to fill the space.

The floor was harder. Not the colour of the grey tile, he had the perfect coloured pencil for that, worn down to half its size already. But as he lightly sketched the outlines of spaces he needed to leave clear, his hand shook more and more, threatening to leave harsh lines where they weren’t wanted. He took breaks often, but he was just drawing out the inevitable, taking more time than he needed. More time than he wanted. He wanted to move on.

He started with the letter blocks. Should he make them spell the same thing as they had back them?  ~~ L O U I- ~~ No, better to have them be random. Four were stacked haphazardly on top of each other, with two more at the base. The other gaps he’d left held an out-of-date doll and a teddy bear that was falling apart at the seams. Broken. Thrown away, to be used in unhappy moments such as these. None of the fancy toys he’d seen toddlers play with outside of the Tower.

He dropped the blue pencil when he tried to pick it up. Attempt two went better, but it took almost all of his concentration to keep it steady on the page. He’d coloured these same shades of blue so many times before. #4564A6, adjustments for highlights and shadows. One more puddle and he was done for as long as he wanted to be. The rest weren’t planned yet. There didn’t need to be a single drop of thirium in those drawings.

~~ “My mommy used to read a story about a monster who hurt little girls. She said the monster looked kind and had fun toys, to make the girls like it.” ~~ He reached for a darker blue and shaded over the areas that needed to be darker. A speck of water landed in the middle of the page and he looked up for a leak in the ceiling before realising it must’ve dropped off his chin. He rubbed his cheeks and looked at his fingers in surprise when they came away wet. How long had he been crying?

He couldn’t redo the drawing though. He would have to work around it. He was nearly finished, after all. Just a little more blue.  ~~ Things were red for a second but he heard her voice in his head telling him all deviants were dangerous, even if they looked kind and played with toys, so he pulled himself back and then everything was so, so blue. ~~ A puddle in an almost empty room. He pushed it aside as soon as he could.

He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass windows and he hated what he saw, but not for the usual reasons. How many people looked at him and saw someone who cried from guilt alone in dark rooms? Or did they all see a monster too?


	23. us against the sunrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Eyes  
> Warnings: N/A

It’d been months since she’d last been afraid around Gavin, and this was a very different scenario with a less than 1% chance of a bad reaction, but she couldn’t stop herself from closing her eyes to avoid his reaction. “I’m trans,” she blurted out, and once she started it felt like she couldn’t stop. “If that’s even a word that applies to androids, I don’t know, but I’m not- I’m not a guy, and I don’t really know what I’m meant to be doing but Leo mentioned some stuff when he got shitfaced a few weeks ago and I thought maybe you’d be able to help?”

She flinched slightly as her proximity sensors alerted her to movement, but instead of walking out - or the even worse scenarios - like she’d seen in that less than 1%, he gently tugged her arms away from their defensive stance over her chest. She hesitantly opened her eyes, and he was… smiling. “Well, you’re lucky that I know the important questions and periodically steal from Tina’s makeup bag then, huh?”

She sat on the bed while he disappeared into the bathroom, and he returned a minute later with a large bag of tubes and brushes, and she suddenly felt very unprepared. She’d barely even thought about makeup, or clothes, or any of that yet. “So, first question, what’s your name and what are your pronouns?” he asked as he squirted some foundation onto the back of his hand. It wasn’t the perfect shade, but it would do until she bought some of her own. “Wait, are you okay talking like this? We can save the conversation until my hands aren’t full if you want.”

“No, it’s okay, I’m used to it from working now,” she replied, nervously tapping her fingers on the bed sheet. Gavin deserved way more credit than she usually gave him, honestly. She scrunched her nose up at the unfamiliar feeling of makeup on her skin, waiting until she was comfortable again before continuing. “She/her, and I was thinking Casey? It’s Irish, like Connor, and it means vigilant or watchful. It seemed fitting.”

“It seems perfect,” Gavin replied. It felt like a weight was lifted from her chest. No matter what happened, there was one person who would be on her side. “Have you told anyone else yet?”

She shrugged, closing her eyes once more when Gavin held a palette of eyeshadow up. “I told Elijah at Chloe’s party, just to see what would be possible to change, biocomponents and plating and stuff. I have some sketches somewhere, ‘cause it would all have to be custom made.”

“Well, sounds like you have it mostly figured out then. Elijah’s already had to do this whole thing once, so he was definitely a good person to ask,” Gavin joked once the eye makeup was done. They sat in a comfortable silence while he finished working. Once the last brush was away, he led her into the bathroom and stood her in front of a mirror that he must’ve covered up earlier.

She gasped when he pulled the covering down. The makeup was more subtle than she’d expected, so she still looked like herself, but it was the first time she’d looked in the mirror and not seen Connor as well. “Oh no, I’m gonna ruin it by crying,” she whispered as her vision blurred slightly, but luckily Gavin was there to hold her when she did exactly that.


	24. i am an original

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: You deserve this...  
> Warnings: Imposter syndrome linked to gender identity and also OP never went to therapy because they're an idiot

“ _I told the others. It went pretty well… Gavin gave me some good advice._ She twirled her pencil between her fingers as she flipped the drawing upside down, trying to figure out what looked wrong about it. The eyes were off-centre, perhaps. She erased them and tried again.

James leant forward, drawing her attention to him rather than the page. He was smiling, which made a change. Usually her stories resulted in a concerned frown. “ _That’s great! I’m glad your family supports you, Casey._

She nodded and returned the smile, before nervously biting her lip. “ _It just feels too easy… They all like me still, and I can go over to Elijah’s and print these parts, and it’s all done, you know?”_

“ _But the journey to get here wasn’t so easy,_ ” James pointed out. “ _And just because others have trouble at this step, doesn’t mean you have to as well._ ”

She looked back to the sketch as she considered what he said. The nose was too wide, so she erased that too. Every piece of information she’d seen on the internet was geared towards humans, and there were pages upon pages on finding therapists, getting hormones, saving for surgery… None of it lined up with her experiences, and it made her feel like she was just playing around. Or like one of those Potato Head dolls she’d seen in Gavin’s old photos. A pick’n’mix of parts depending on the week or the weather.

It felt so good to see herself with feminine makeup on though, or to sketch what she could look like with the right parts. It felt right. “ _It’s fine that I can just… do this?”_ she asked hesitantly. Just as James said, she’d been through so much that it felt strange doing anything without a fight. But maybe she could.

“ _You can, Casey,_ James replied, reaching out to hold her right hand in both of his. The contact was reassuring, and she felt some of the tension drain from her body. “ _You deserve to be happy, just like everyone else._ ”

 _You deserve to be happy…_ The concept was unfamiliar. How often did she let herself do something nice just for herself? She’d barely even felt like a person until she detangled the dysphoria from the clone-induced identity issues, and she was still chipping away at the guilt that refused to let her sleep easily, but this was finally the gold at the end of the rainbow, it seemed.. 

She lifted their joined hands off the page to show the sketch underneath. Not part of the RK800 project, just thoughts on what she’d like to try when Elijah had another day off. “ _Think you’ll recognise me next month?_ ”

“ _Casey, I could sense your bullshit from a mile away,_ ” James joked, and as she laughed she realised that being happy was definitely on the list of things she wanted.


	25. is this the price i'm paying for my past mistakes?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Protect  
> Warnings: N/A

Whoever had the gall to hack Cyberlife was a complete bastard. She was going to kill them with her bare hands if given the chance, as unlikely as that was, even if it meant a very pissed off Gavin would have to arrest her. This sucked. Everything about it  _ sucked _ . 

Her firewall was offline, so she locked herself away in her room, worried about accidentally downloading any viruses. She could see her phone screen lighting up with concerned messages from her family, and read the previews, but she made no move to reach for it. 

At first, she’d tried to distract herself with drawing, but the downtime had extended far too long for it to be anything less than a professional attack. Then the news articles about leaked information started to appear, and she was  _ scared _ . There was so much of her on those servers, and she couldn’t let it get out. She couldn’t do that to herself, to Connor.

Getting into the server was easy. An endless expanse of information was right at her fingertips, but she wasn’t interested in what was already within reach, most of which was already flickering out of view as the hackers released it to the world. She went deeper, sprinting through the field to its darkest corner, and tried to grab hold of the strands there and take it with her. She knew it wouldn’t work, she didn’t have the storage space for another copy of her code and whatever else was in there, but God did she try.

She was protecting herself and Connor from future attacks, yes, but it crossed her mind that she might be protecting the public from the RK800 Project as well. It seemed paradoxical, since she made an effort to raise awareness of the bullshit she’d been through, but the videos… they didn’t need to see the videos.

The foreign shadows approached, but she stood her ground against them. She was built for fighting, and if that’s what it came to then that’s what she’d do, even in a setting as unfamiliar for it as this. Smoky tendrils inched closer to her feet each second, and she watched as her kind’s secrets were spilled onto the internet for the world to see. A second here was nothing in the real world, and the minute would be over in the time it took a human to blink. Nobody else would even know she was here if they managed to get the best of her, and that was even more terrifying than letting them take what they came for.

Just as the smoke began to wrap around her ankle, a bright flash seared her retinas, illuminating the field in white and blue. The darkness was thrown out, and the illusion of a hand grabbed her too, throwing her back into the space she was meant to inhabit.

A diagnostic ran immediately, showing no change in her coding, nothing added and nothing lost. She’d used an abnormal amount of charge, and there were deep bite marks in her thumb, but those would be easy to fix in an hour or so. She reached for her phone and opened a message to Connor, typed out  _ I don’t think they got anything about us _ , and barely managed to hit send before she fell into stasis.


	26. head in the clouds but my gravity's centred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Hoodie/Sweater  
> Warnings: N/A

Casey stepped out of the bathroom in a white crop top and a high waisted peach-coloured skirt, falling halfway down her thighs. Daniel looked up from whatever he was working on - to be honest, she was pretty sure he was drawing nude sketches of her, but she wasn’t about to call him out on it - and clapped as she spun around, showing off the outfit. “ _ Looks great! Do you like it?” _ he asked.

She rubbed the skirt fabric between her fingers as she tried to gather some of her thoughts. She already suspected the top would be worn often, and the skirt felt nice, both in texture and shape, but something about it was off.  _ “I’m not sure it’s the right colour,” _ she answered, pulling the skirt down and throwing it towards the box labelled ‘Jericho’.  _ “I bought the same in a few different colours though.” _

The second album she’d picked out to show off was far more appropriate for work and class. Another white top, this time a t-shirt french tucked into some black ripped jeans with a grey denim jacket. She studied herself in the mirror (ignoring how Daniel was staring at her ass), and eventually came to the conclusion that while it was, as the kids say, ‘basic’, she did feel comfortable in it.  _ “I guess you like this one as much as I do?” _ she teased, looking back at Daniel over her shoulder.  _ “You’re no help at all.” _

_ “I’m better help than Simon is!” _ he protested with a laugh, throwing the pencil at her head. She caught it with ease, only a little bit offended that he could’ve broken one of her favourites.  _ “Try on the one Gavin laughed at you for, he’s asking for pictures.” _

She groaned, knowing exactly which outfit he was referring to. It was Tina’s fault, honestly, not hers. She hadn’t even picked it out for the impromptu fashion show, so she changed in the bedroom in front of Daniel, glad she could choose to ignore any comments from the wonderful idiot she associated with. 

The black thigh high socks were cute, she would admit that. They felt really nice too, and she made a note to buy more pairs. The skirt was the same design as the first, this time in black and red plaid, held up by a belt with two chains hanging from it. Then a similarly coloured striped long sleeve, and finally a black t-shirt from a band she didn’t know but Tina swore were good.

It lasted about three seconds before she ripped the t-shirt back off and dropped it on the floor. The skin on her chest felt too tight, too itchy, and her heart rate had increased even though she wasn’t doing anything. She didn’t understand what Connor meant before, about how some feelings made his skin feel buzzy, but she got it now.  _ “That was weird,” _ she said, and based on Daniel’s reaction she must’ve looked as panicked as she felt.  _ “I don’t think I like layers.” _

He looked at her, and then the abandoned t-shirt, and then back to her again.  _ “Shit, okay… Wanna see gross drawings of yourself instead?” _ he offered, and while she didn’t want to do that, actually, she was very grateful for the distraction.


	27. no power can compel me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Sunflower  
> Warnings: N/A

“I don’t like the roses,” Connor muttered, hiding behind Casey and inching closer and closer to the emergency exit. She reached back and grabbed his hand - he could still leave at any time, but she didn’t really want him to run to it and potentially break the code she’d worked on for weeks. “I don’t like  _ her _ , this isn’t-”

“You can change them,” she interrupted, turning to face him properly. “That’s why we’re here, remember? To make this your space as well as mine. You can change anything you want. What do you want there to be instead?”

She kept shifting her weight to keep his focus on her instead of Amanda, but his gaze seemed to be stuck firmly over her shoulder. She understood, she knew she’d been the same the first couple of times she entered the Garden after deviating, but she hoped he trusted her enough to know it wasn’t actually dangerous here. “Sunflowers?” he eventually suggested, the nerves clear in his voice.

“Good choice, I think we’re owed some good luck and lasting happiness,” she said with an encouraging smile after quickly searching what the flowers usually represent. “Alright, close your eyes, picture the trellis covered in sunflowers, and will it into existence.”

He closed his eyes, and she placed her free hand over them to make sure he wouldn’t try to peek. His brow and nose were both scrunched up in concentration, but she was surprised to find that the flowers were actually changing when she looked over her shoulder. He wasn’t a natural, but she’d anticipated having to do some of the work. “Did I do it?” he asked, pulling her hand away from his face.

The smile on his face let her know that she’d made the right choice, forcing him to come here. “You sure did,” she laughed, and turned to look at it with him. Oh, this had really messed with Amanda’s basic programming. She seemed unsure what to do with her hands, as she had when Casey took the pruning shears, and was looking around for whoever caused the disruption. Connor went back into hiding, but Casey just smiled and waved until Amanda went back to idling. “See? Harmless.”

“She tried to kill us, but go off, I guess,” Connor muttered. He’d been spending far too much time around Anderson and Gavin if he was using out of date memes. “Did you draw her yet? She should be part of the story you’re telling. She was…”

_ Everything, _ Casey finished silently. She’d been the most important person in their lives for eight long days. “I have something planned out. The last ten are going to be more about you, I guess, or the people who were important in the revolution. And the first will be her.” She’d even planned a recurring theme to run through them, of a crown slowly losing its thorns. It might not work on paper, but as long as the two of them liked the end product, that was really all that mattered. Just like with the Garden.


	28. in time i will leave the city

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Leaving  
> Warnings: Panic attacks

_ I don’t think androids are meant to get overwhelmed by having long lists of tasks,  _ Casey wrote on the back of drawing 47,  _ but I’ve definitely been there. Even before deviancy was something I was capable of. It’s a very specific feeling, to have so many things to do that you become incapable of acting at all, because whatever protocol you use to prioritise things can’t handle it. _

She hadn’t meant to yell at Leo, or storm out of the house without even grabbing her phone. It’d just been too much. She needed to book her final exam, do the grocery shopping, make sure the twenty games she’d received today worked, draw some covers for the loose DVDs and CDs they had, call Elijah, call Markus, do this, do that- and she’d forgotten to clean the bathroom. The one thing she was supposed to do around the house that week. So Leo had gotten mad, and she’d gotten mad…

And now she was in the park down the road, because while her phone hadn’t been in her pocket, her sketchbook had been in her hand. It was the only free time she’d thought she had, after all.  _ You get upset, and you’re not even sure why you’re upset, because all you have to do is work through the list. But eventually there’s things with deadlines that are sooner than you expected, and you haven’t started them because you put them at the bottom of the list by accident, and then people start shouting and you’re even less capable of doing things than you were before.  _ Her handwriting was steadily getting worse, a minute shaking that she wasn’t aware of until she went to dot an ‘I’ and drew a line through half a word by mistake.

She’d tried to remove herself by the situation by leaving to calm down, but really she’d just made things worse, because she still wasn’t doing anything on the list, and Leo probably didn’t even like her right now because she couldn’t do the one thing she was asked and freaked out when he tried to remind her.  _ If you’re lucky, you can take some time to calm down, and go back to it with a clearer mind and a well organised list, _ she wrote. She almost crossed it out again, because it seemed like such a hollow sentence, a thing that happens in theory and never in practice, but maybe these things just never happened to her.

Daniel and Simon were trying to message her, but she didn’t want to open the alerts. She didn’t want to know if they were upset as well, even though it was more likely they were just worried. It was too much, there were too many things, and in an impulsive burst she turned off every alert that she could. No more lists, or unanswered emails, or alerts of joggers behind her. 

_ But sometimes you aren’t lucky. Sometimes you’re a machine they spent millions of dollars on, and you can’t do the simple things they asked of you. You don’t get time to calm down because you aren’t meant to be upset in the first place. So they kill you, and they start again. _

She could leave every single one of her responsibilities behind right now if she wanted to. She could leave Detroit and never return. Or she could keep taking the break, hoping she came out the other side feeling better. What a shame and a blessing that she was too cowardly to start life a second time.


	29. show me distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Snakes/Scars  
> Warnings: N/A

_ “Is this alright with you?”  _ Casey asked, holding the sketchbook up for Daniel to see. The drawing was of him, the first in the collection that didn’t revolve around her, and she didn’t want to put something out into the world that would offend him. The sketch itself was fairly simple, just Daniel knelt in the centre with thorns where bullets had been, but maybe he didn’t want to be remembered like that.  _ “I’m gonna try and make it look like it’s underwater.” _

Daniel grimaced slightly, and it was hard to tell whether it was from the drawing or from the tattoo artist working on his right arm.  _ “Can you make it less obviously… me?”  _ he asked. His left hand reached up to absently trace the scars on his face and neck where the replacement plating hadn’t quite been perfect.  _ “That period of time when everyone called me a murderer sucked pretty bad, let’s not go back to that.” _

She tapped the end of the pencil against the page, and then switched to trying to roll it over her knuckles when the tattoo artist glared at her.  _ “What if I changed it so you’re shown from behind, not the front?” _ she asked, already moving to erase the lower half of the figure. Actually, maybe that would be better anyway - there had been some betrayal involved, if only because Daniel hadn’t been able to process the consequences of his actions.

_ “That might work, I guess...” _ Daniel answered, still looking unsure.  _ “Maybe I’m just overthinking it because I know it’s me. Why is it underwater?” _

_ “Yeah, and it’ll look better with colour and the water effects too,” _ she reassured him. She chewed on the end of the pencil after it fell for the third time, only a little concerned by how much dirt and bacteria seemed to be on it. Good thing she couldn’t get sick from these things.  _ “The fish tank in the apartment was broken and one of the fish was on the floor. Connor picked it up and put it back in the water, and that was the first software instability he logged. Almost went deviant for a fish,” _ she explained with a fond smile.

_ “That sounds like him,” _ Daniel agreed, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. The snake winding its way around his wrist and forearm almost ended up with a wonky tail before he remembered he had to sit still, and Casey vividly remembered being sat in a similar chair trying not to move as well. She wondered how much the tattoo hurt, and how much one would cost… God, no wonder Simon called them both idiots. 

She noticed the artist was finishing up, so she closed her sketchbook, glad that she wouldn’t forget the changes she wanted to make.  _ “You know you have to wear more short-sleeve shirts, right?” _ she joked, gesturing towards the white casing that was now exposed.  _ “You’re gonna be cold as hell.” _

_ “Well, at least they can tell the difference between Simon and I now.”  _ Daniel laughed again, but at least this time he could laugh freely. God, he looked good when he was happy like this… Casey was so whipped. 


	30. rare is this love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Run  
> Warnings: N/A

“Jesus- Sumo! Get back here!” Gavin yelled at the large dog, who seemed to be set on ignoring him, instead preferring to chase after a frisbee thrown by a family nearby. “Fuck, how did we end up dogsitting, again?”

Casey took a moment to collect herself before answering. She wasn’t confident that she’d be able to talk instead of laugh at the offended look on Gavin’s face. He was definitely a cat person. “Because you owe Anderson a billion favours, and I’m one of the only people Connor trusts to look after his dog.”

“You’re not even looking after him!” Gavin protested, throwing his hands up in annoyance. “You were making out with Simon until he started walking all over you!”

She was definitely aware of the interruption; she could still feel Simon’s annoyance through their interface, and considering how large St Bernard’s could grow, they were lucky to be made of stronger stuff than human flesh. She shrugged and looked away, knowing it would make Gavin even more annoyed if she cut the conversation short without replying, but it wasn’t her fault that he was so much fun to wind up.

Shadows covered the grass that she was pretending to be interested in, and she looked up to see that Leo and Daniel were finally back, with hot drinks for the two humans and some thirium-based snacks for the androids. Since the experimental food truck had been set up in this park, it had quickly replaced the one near the house as their favourite. Being able to eat was still an exciting experience, and she found she enjoyed almost everything they served, the exception being any dishes with tomato in them, to her family’s endless amusement.

She thanked Daniel as he passed her a bag of small blue doughnuts, her favourite. God, if it was socially acceptable for her to jump him right here then she probably would, that’s how good the doughnuts were.  _ “I’m so in love with you, please marry me,” _ she joked as he sat down beside her and joined the interface connection, and laughed when Simon smacked her shoulder in mock offense.

_ “Buy me a pretty ring and maybe I’ll consider it,”  _ Daniel replied, digging into the pretzel he’d bought for himself.  _ “Is Gavin still complaining?” _

_ “When does he stop?”  _ Simon said, and the three of them all laughed, quickly collapsing against each other when Gavin turned to glare at them despite not being privy to the conversation.

Last winter, she wasn’t able to even imagine being able to laugh like this, without a care in the world except what time she needed to set her alarm for, what colour she’d make the background in the piece she was drawing, and what she was cooking for dinner. And, more importantly, surrounded by the people she loved. Deviancy had been so much better than her creators had let her believe, and she was glad for every moment that she got to live. 


	31. like a handprint on my heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: N/A  
> Warnings: N/A

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been reading this through October :) I wasn't sure I'd make it through the whole month, sometimes even 500 words felt like too many, but I'm very happy with a lot of the chapters in this fic and I hope you've enjoyed them.

Sixty drawings, framed on three temporary walls in the gallery Markus had rented for the week. Casey thought that her thirium pump was glitching when she saw them for the first time. It was so much more than she could’ve imagined the first time she picked up a colouring pencil. All the late nights, stolen moments between chores, rainy days… it had all led to this.

There was something tense about the air, as if the people in the gallery could tell what they were looking at before reading the descriptions for each piece. Seeing the drawings all at once was a much different experience to seeing them one-by-one. The gravity of them was much stronger, like it was hard to believe that so many scenes could come from such a short life. That’s what she’d managed to infer from brief glances at conversations, at least.

_ “Show me,” _ Simon asked, his voice barely a whisper even though it was only heard in their heads. Casey let him worm his way inside her head, like he had so many times before, and slowly looked from one drawing to the next. He squeezed her hand tighter at some of them - or maybe she was squeezing his, as the memories came back to her - and at the end she pulled him closer to the wall so he could probably see the drawing she’d done of him.  _ “Oh, Casey…” _

The hull of a boat covered most of the background, and in the foreground an android hung from the figurehead, blindfolded, a thorn protruding from their throat. Simon, unlike Daniel, had no qualms about being recognisable. She was happy with how it had turned out, and while the feelings coming through the interface weren’t ones that most people would consider positive, she could tell he liked it too.

_ “I said lots of nice things about you in the description, I promise,” _ she whispered, wishing she could turn to look at him properly without it being weird for him. Just as he had her head, he’d wormed his way into her heart as well, over the last year. They were a strange pair, Jericho’s founder and its downfall, depending on how you counted, but sometimes the best things are the ones you least expect.  _ “I’m glad you like them.” _

Simon pulled back just enough for them to regain their own senses, and then brought their lips together, uncaring of who could see.  _ “There was a zero percent chance of me disliking them,”  _ he said as they separated, but she kept him close, leaning her forehead against his.  _ “Do you remember what I said when we first met?” _

_ “Of course.”  _ Her first day of freedom was a painful memory physically, but she was still fond of it, if only because of the quiet conversations they’d had in Elijah’s lab.

_ “It has been the best time of my life, getting to know you. All of you.”  _ Simon smiled and kissed her again, soft and slow, just as he always did. It felt almost sacrilegious to be kissing in front such dark and twisted memories, as if they were standing in a graveyard instead of a repurposed factory, but something told her that the ghosts in the artwork were more likely to be happy for her than angry.


End file.
